


Hollaback Girl

by gardnerhill



Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Menstruation, Misogyny, Prompt Fic, Racism, Sexual Harassment, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Always take advantage of male squeamishness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollaback Girl

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2015 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #23 _, **Improvised Tools.** For a truly desperate person anything can be utilized as a tool or as a weapon._

Joan woke up to them atop her bedspread, three of them lined up neat as a row of cigars. No note, no turtlegram. She exhaled in exasperation, then lay back and laughed a little. Yes, it was just a little weird that her male partner was more aware of her cycle than she – never mind how regular she was, it always seemed to spring upon her without warning – but having them available on the day she usually started was not a bad thing. She’d certainly cured him of the misogynistic habit of using said cycle as an explanation for her moods or emotional state. And it was a thoughtful gesture, and refreshing to know a man who didn’t react with automatic revulsion at this aspect of female biology.  
  
All three came in handy that day – two for their avowed purpose, and one when Joan was cornered by a catcaller on her way to talk to a person of interest.  
  
Normally Joan blew off the daily gauntlet of whistles, lip-smacks and obscene gestures and suggestions most walking women had to deal with in NYC as she simply didn’t have time, and her usual “I know 20 ways to kill you from here” body language dealt with most of the problem.  
  
But there were outliers, like the man who wouldn’t stop walking alongside her and talking – she could smell him from 2 feet away – getting angrier and angrier that Joan wouldn’t look his way. (Funny how the most repulsive, greasiest, stinkiest, unwashed-penis-est man on the block was always the one most offended that a woman didn’t pay attention to him.) Not surprisingly, Mr. Wonderful was also mortally offended that Joan didn’t comply with his racist fantasies about her sexual submissiveness.  
  
Finally she said coldly, “Leave me alone.”  
  
He grabbed her arm (assault and battery) and snarled “Whassa matter, China-doll? You on the fuckin’ rag?”  
  
Joan let go of the baton in her purse and grabbed the other weapon. “Yeah,” she said cheerily. “Catch!”  
  
And she threw the still-wrapped, unused and pristine tampon into his face.  
  
It was like throwing water on the Wicked Witch of the West. He screamed (actually screamed at a soprano octave) and let go of her, staggering back.  
  
 _Then_ out came the baton and Joan landed one crack on one kneecap that dropped the howling swine. By the time he could get up she was long gone.  
  
She never told Sherlock about the incident, except in retrospect a long time afterward (his lowering expression showing that she’d made the right call).  
  
But that was when she always made sure she had a few of those little cotton bombs stashed in her purse, ready to grab. Just in case.


End file.
